


three's a crowd

by annejumps



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: Still Have Powers, Bottom Erik, Fantasy Fulfillment, M/M, Multi, Praise Kink, Telepathy, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-11 02:02:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12924969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annejumps/pseuds/annejumps
Summary: Charles catches a glimpse of what his oh-so-casual fuckbuddy and argument partner Erik really wants in bed.





	three's a crowd

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KesaKo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KesaKo/gifts).



> Prompt: _"Charles and Erik are in a relationship ; one of them is very weak to praises, which gets worse when the other exploits his slight daddy kink. Even though they're very much in love (and quite jealous with that), they add another mutant - Azazel - to the mix, which helps in teasing the hell of the poor Erik or Charles. Dirty talk and naughty smut encouraged._  
>  Bonus point if there's a heartwarming aftercare scene and everyone is happy."
> 
>  
> 
> _Bottom Erik or Charles accepted !_  
>  Apart from Mpreg and the story not ending in Cherik or a poly relationship, ANYTHING goes ! Have fun !
> 
>  
> 
> Happy Holidays, KesaKo, and I hope I met the spirit of your prompt!

What had started as the most argumentative, volatile fuckbuddy relationship Charles had ever had quickly escalated into something involving inconvenient feelings, Charles realized one morning at the beginning of winter break.

Erik Lehnsherr, brilliant engineering grad student, was facedown on Charles’ bed, gasping and moaning into the pillows, elegant long fingers clutching at Charles’ expensive Indian cotton sheets. 

Charles’ mother would be appalled. She’d be appalled by everything going on in here right now, but the lack of care for the sheets might well top the list. That was just part of why he was glad he’d stayed here for break. Erik was staying because his parents had passed away years ago and his little sister was across the country in school, spending that time with her friends there. As some of the few people remaining, they’d naturally gravitated toward each other, as was becoming increasingly common with them.

Charles had been delighted to learn that Erik didn’t mind bottoming at all, in fact in many ways he preferred it. Not that Charles would have mind bottoming for him, or doing just about anything else for him, anyway. They’d met at debate, couldn’t leave the argument in the meeting room, moved on to chess, then to coffee, then to another argument, then to kissing each other to shut each other up in the alleyway, then promptly to Charles’ bed. Where others were impressed by Charles’ digs, Erik was indifferent, almost contemptuous, the slight scorn in his gaze condemning what he saw as Charles’ comfortable softness. Based solely on what Charles had chosen to tell him, it was not an outlandish conclusion to come to.

But when Erik was in his bed, his typical composure and characteristic deliberate coolness melted away until he was a mass of incoherent need, all for Charles, although he never let himself get to the point of begging—Erik was still very proud, as well as guarded. 

It was these things all taken together that were threatening to capture Charles’ heart.

Erik and Charles were both mutants; it was the thing which most bonded them and which most often served as their point of contention. Erik could manipulate metal, which he was currently unconsciously demonstrating by making the metal components of the bed rock and squeak. For his part, Charles knew he was enjoying himself because he was telepathic and could read his thoughts—as a rule, he did nothing intrusive, but Erik’s pleasure was leaking out into his mind in a way he couldn’t have avoided even if he hadn’t known Erik wanted him to know. He tightened his hold on Erik’s hips, making him gasp. “Charles.”

A single sound, but such feeling in it. To hear that cool, composed voice rasping and hoarse, to feel the heat coming off him in waves—Charles wrapped a hand around Erik’s cock, which was bobbing against his abdomen and getting it sticky, closing his eyes at the way the sudden contact pulled a choking sound from Erik. A stream of thoughts came from him as his arousal ratcheted upward, as Charles fucked him harder and mercilessly stroked his cock—memories of the previous times Charles had fucked him, especially the first, when he’d been surprised by how good the arrogant, charming rich kid had been in bed, some other snippets of memories of sex with others, whether he was on his back or on his knees or doing the fucking, and then some flashes of fantasies—oh, now those were interesting—Erik being fucked by large, powerful men, while—oh—others watched, full of envy and admiration, touching Erik as he was lost in need—telling him what a good boy he was for them.

These all went by in a flutter, and Charles wasn’t entirely sure he was meant to see all of that, exactly—perhaps Erik’s control had been lost. Regardless, Erik was so turned on that his cock throbbed in Charles’ hand and he came almost immediately after, sounding like he was wrung out, and followed closely by Charles, who was fascinated by what he’d seen as he drew some pleasure from Erik’s orgasm to push his own that much further.

He slumped onto Erik, playfully biting the smooth planes of his back around his shoulder blade. Erik was thin and lean, his body an assemblage of graceful long lines. His bones were evident and Charles wanted to touch every gentle protuberance, caress him, but Erik seemed to shy away from close, prolonged attention; perhaps it made him feel too vulnerable, perhaps he felt this relationship wasn’t serious enough for such things.

Charles decided not to comment on what he’d seen in Erik’s mind, especially that last bit, but after they’d cleaned up and gotten under the covers, he remained fascinated by it, and stayed awake for a bit longer. Erik had already fallen asleep, and as usual after he’d drifted off, he found his way to putting his head on Charles’ shoulder and an arm over him. As Charles idly stroked his fingers in a gentle rhythm through Erik’s short, soft hair, he thought about what he’d seen.

One of the men had been identifiable, because, well, he was bright red all over, and essentially looked like the popular conception of the Devil. He went by Azazel, even, and had a shock of black hair. Although it perhaps went without saying, he was a mutant as well, and had the ability to teleport. Erik had a great deal of admiration and respect for him as a mutant, and he was a dependable fellow, always ready to complete a task, no matter how shady it might be. He had a murky past, having moved here from Russia, and a dark sense of humor. For whatever reason, he’d ended up in Erik’s fantasies; it probably had a lot to do with his intimidating physique and unusual appearance. 

Charles was starting to formulate an idea.

A few days later, having given himself time to ruminate on the matter, he contacted Azazel, after deciding how exactly to propose the idea to him. When they met in the corner of a crowded coffee shop, Azazel was immediately game, although he also seemed amused by the concept. 

“And you are fine with sharing him like this?” Azazel asked, unable to ignore his curiosity.

“I want to please him,” Charles said simply. “And it’s just for the night, after all,” he added, after a sudden spike of jealousy at the idea of Azazel thinking Erik was up for grabs now—which was ridiculous, given that he wasn’t even sure they were really in a relationship. Azazel smirked knowingly, and Charles ignored it. 

Several days later, Charles invited Erik to his to play chess, a usual reason-slash-cover for them to end up having sex with Erik spending the night. After a few games, when they both had started being distracted by thoughts of quitting the game to kiss and pull each other’s clothes off, someone knocked on Charles’ door.

It was late, and Erik looked at Charles with some alarm. “I’ll get it,” Charles said casually, and made his way to the door.

He and Azazel walked back to the bedroom together, and Charles smothered a laugh at Erik’s alarm changing to confusion and then his face reddening as he took in both of them looking at him.

“Take your clothes off, Erik,” Charles said.

Erik stared at them, a little slack-jawed, then swallowed, hesitating.

“Come on now, Erik, be a good boy for us and strip off,” Charles said, voice low but firmer now.

Seemingly to suddenly understand—Charles felt the confusion clear as everything clicked into place—Erik sucked in a sharp breath, and peeled off his t-shirt in one hasty gesture. He hesitated, though, as he stood, and Charles stepped closer, touching his fingers to Erik’s chin, tilting his head up a bit, even though Erik was taller than he was.

“Darling,” he said—he’d never called Erik that before, but it felt natural in his mouth when it came to Erik— “everything off for us. We want to see you.”

Azazel, arms folded, was watching with a great deal of interest. Charles again felt that sting of jealousy, and reminded himself that this was all for Erik. Erik nodded, kicking off his shoes and stepping out of his jeans. 

“Isn’t he gorgeous?” Charles said to Azazel as they looked him over. Already flushed, Erik was breathing hard, trembling a little, trying to maintain composure. “He’ll be so good for us, I promise you. He’s such a good boy. Aren’t you, Erik?”

Erik nodded.

“So beautiful,” Charles murmured. “But you have one last thing to take off, don’t you? Be good for us and take it off.”

Erik took off his shorts, to Azazel’s growl of approval, which sent a little shudder through him. “Gorgeous, Erik,” Charles whispered, wrapping a hand loosely around Erik’s rapidly hardening cock. “I want you to get on the bed now, darling, on your hands and knees.” 

Taking his cue, Azazel started to undress. 

Blinking at Charles, Erik licked his lips, lashes fluttering. 

“Yes?” Charles prompted, sliding a thumb over Erik’s lower lip. Erik’s gaze went hazy. Charles let go of his cock, and Erik promptly got on the bed. 

Charles, still clothed, followed, sitting on the bed near Erik’s head, facing him. Once the reality of Charles’ watching hit him, Erik shuddered again. “Yes, darling, I’m going to watch you,” he murmured, “and you’re going to take him so well, love, you’re going to be so good for us, my sweet boy.” He was younger than Erik, so saying such things should have felt ridiculous, but Erik was soaking it up.

Erik closed his eyes. Behind him, Azazel, slicked up and condom-ready, started to push in, as Charles had directed him—with very little prep. In fact, none. “You can take him, Erik,” Charles murmured, as Erik groaned, head dropping forward. “Lovely,” Charles said, as Erik shifted his hips back, heart aching sharply as he watched someone else fuck Erik—it was a sweet hurt, one he didn’t want to explore too closely right now, but paradoxically he was enjoying it.

Azazel was enjoying this too. He groaned low in his throat as he sank entirely into Erik, and muttered something in Russian, guttural and sincere-sounding. 

“Fuck him hard,” Charles told him, looking at Erik. “He can take it. Can’t you, my darling.”

Erik just moaned, rocking his hips in time with Azazel’s starting thrusts; he wasn’t holding back, and Erik managed to brace himself, panting against Charles’ palm on the side of his face. He shivered as Charles slid his hand up his cheek to grip locks of his hair, to make him look Charles in the eye.

Azazel was pounding away, red hands gripping Erik’s hips as he grunted. Erik’s gaze was going unfocused, his thoughts a hot blur of arousal. He loved being impaled on Azazel’s cock and relentlessly fucked like this, but what he really loved what Charles looking at him, admiring him, doing this for him. He was very surprised; he hadn’t realized Charles had seen this slice of his thoughts, hadn’t thought he’d be interested or approving.

Charles then projected something to Erik, showing him first that it was a projection for the purposes of his fantasy and that Charles hadn’t really invited the entire dorm into this room (Erik was a very private, guarded man, which was probably why he secretly got off to the idea of a roomful of people praising him while he took it up the ass). The projected images were quite convincing if he said so himself: many people, strangers and people they knew alike, watching Erik in fascination and longing, touching themselves and each other, but all eyes on him and praise falling from their lips. Erik was beautiful; Erik was powerful; Erik took it so beautifully. Charles’ thoughts, filtered through these projections.

Stroking a hand through Erik’s hair, fingernails scraping his scalp, caressing the vulnerable back of his neck to make him shiver, with his other hand Charles fumbled open the fly of his jeans and pulled himself out, giving himself a squeeze before starting on a good rapid wank, as a blinking Erik stared at him, and just before Azazel wrapped a hand around Erik’s cock, drawing a startled exclamation from him. Azazel slammed in in quick short strokes, still relentless—he was a powerful man, no wonder Erik had been drawn to him for this fantasy—nearing his peak. Charles thought of telling him to praise Erik, but frankly didn’t want to hear those words coming from him. Projections might be telling him how wonderful he was, but the only real person in this room he wanted speaking any tender words to Erik was himself.

“Come for us, darling, my good lovely boy,” Charles murmured, “come for us, hard.”

Erik groaned, a groan from deep within him, as Azazel came, slamming into him. Charles didn’t want to come until Erik did, however, and Azazel wanked him with no break, making him a trembling, panting mess; he bent his head specifically to watch the sight of his cock in Azazel’s hand, his come slipping down over the bright red skin of his fingers. That tipped Charles into coming too, which he did, with some final long, tight strokes, shuddering hard.

Azazel chuckled, breathless, and pulled out. Erik collapsed forward, Charles moving to wrap around him. He watched a smirking Azazel dress, the condom binned. “I know when to take my leave,” Azazel told Charles in his strongly accented voice, amused. “If I stayed any longer I’d be intruding.”

Charles started to object out of kneejerk politeness, but nodded instead. Erik pressed his face into the crook of Charles’ shoulder, sweat and possibly tears dampening his shirt. As Azazel finished dressing, Charles discreetly blurred his memory and made him disinclined to telling anyone about the time he’d fucked Erik Lehnsherr while his boyf— while Charles watched him and told him what a good boy he was. With a poof, a grinning Azazel vanished.

“Erik,” Charles whispered once they were alone.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Erik said, voice muffled.

Charles froze, not sure if his tone was accusatory—Erik had wrapped his mind back up again, as tightly as he could under the circumstances, private once more.

“Are you—”

“Thank you,” Erik said, face still pressed into Charles’ shirt. “That was—”

Charles kissed his hair, which was damp with sweat. “I didn’t mean to intrude or presume,” Charles said, abashed, suddenly feeling a rush of guilt. He hadn’t asked whether Erik actually wanted this fantasy to be realized; how stupid of him.

“It’s fine,” Erik said immediately, still breathless, not looking at him. “I didn’t—I didn’t think you felt… that intensely. About me. To do that for me.”

Charles swallowed. “I do,” he said, throat tightening. “Let me get up so I can get you clean,” he said, doing up his flies, shifting away and getting out of bed. As soon as he had, having felt the need to separate them, he wanted to get back in bed again and wrap Erik around him. He hurried to clean himself and to get a damp washcloth, and wiped the sweat and come from Erik, silent. Once Erik started to get goosebumps, Charles stripped out of his clothes and got into pajama trousers himself, and they got under the covers. 

Erik immediately wrapped around him this time, not falling asleep on the other side of the bed as he usually did. Charles turned in his arms to kiss him, hard, and Erik met the kiss with equal fervor, immediate and strong, devouring. Charles had to break it to catch his breath, and Erik was staring at him with his heart in his eyes. Charles swallowed. 

“Erik—” Charles said, at the same time Erik said “Charles—”

“I think we should—” Erik continued, and Charles felt a wild fear that Erik was about to say they shouldn’t see each other anymore— “be exclusive,” and Charles let out a sudden breath of relief. 

“I hadn’t been seeing anyone else recently besides you,” Charles admitted, realizing that he hadn’t fully conceptualized their hangouts as dates, yet such they apparently were and had been the entire time.

Erik shook his head. “Me neither,” he said, and Charles realized Erik’s face was a bit drawn—his request was a huge vulnerability in his eyes, since he was so reserved, and Charles was known as a bit of a flirt. Erik had assumed Charles would turn him down. Cupping his perfect jaw, Charles kissed him, gentle this time.

“Does this mean I don’t have to share you anymore?” he teased, and Erik smothered a laugh. “Don’t worry, darling,” Charles added. “There’s always projecting. I’d happily share you with… myself.”


End file.
